Living Just to Find Emotion
by kelbelle
Summary: It took him another six months to find her. Ironically, the ideal candidate to help him search was the very person he was looking for. Harry/Ruth


**Author's notes: Written for the "Nothing Hip" challenge on livejournal. Inspired, believe it or not, by Journey's "Don't Stop Believin'". **

**Author's note #2: This may be eerily similar to something else being posted soon, but I can assure you it is accidental and coincidental and the author is aware of it.**

**Disclaimer: _Spooks_ is property of Kudos and the BBC, but as far as I'm concerned Harry and Ruth belong to Peter and Nicola.**

* * *

**Living Just to Find Emotion**

For a month after she left, he saw her everywhere. Sometimes she was queuing for the bus in the rain or sipping tea in a café off the Embankment. For a split second one morning, he could've sworn she sold him his morning paper.

It was never her, and he knew this. Eventually, he stopped seeing her places, but deep down inside, he never stopped looking.

Practicality told him there was no chance of ever encountering her again. The barge had been bound for France and that's all he knew. Of course, he was a powerful man. If he wanted to find her, he surely could, but he held himself back.

For his own sake—his own sanity, he convinced himself that this was the way things had to be.

Time passed. The months turned into years. Four years, to be exact. Four years and two days after she sailed away, he tendered his resignation to the service, walked out of Thames House and kept going.

It took him another six months to find her. Ironically, the ideal candidate to help him search was the very person he was looking for. He could've asked Malcolm, but he didn't. He felt good having a purpose, having a goal.

He ran through the European capitals fairly quickly, remembering their sole date and his over-romanticised appeal of "The Grand Tour," and his unspoken implication that she was the companion he was describing.

In the spirit of Atlanticism, he tried New York City next, but came up empty-handed. A quick inquiry through a source Down Under proved to be another dead end.

Napa, California was the last place he ever would've expected.

He wished that had been the most shocking part. Flipping through the dossier that the private detective had sent him, he came across the newspaper clipping—a wedding announcement for Mr. and Mrs. Paul Hammond featuring a smiling Ruth—his Ruth—and Paul Hammond.

Her husband.

Her name wasn't Ruth anymore, as he'd known it wouldn't be. Elinor Hammond (_née_ Sheffield) taught 8th grade English and Literature at a small private school outside Napa. Her husband, Paul, taught Algebra. From the clippings and surveillance he was able to put together a timeline of their courtship and subsequent marriage. They'd been married for a little over two years. He had pictures of their house, their cars and the two cats that had been rescued from a nearby shelter.

She had moved on.

xxx

He let the information fester for a week before he booked his plane ticket. He owed it to himself to finish the mission, at least that's what he told himself as his plane descended into San Francisco. A few hours later he was nursing an overpriced coffee down the street from the private school where she taught.

He still had no plan and no idea what he was going to do when he saw her. Instead, he watched her. He watched her for three days until her every movement was committed to memory. Her hair had grown longer, dusting the tops of her shoulders. It seldom stayed down for more than half a day before being swept off the nape of her neck into a loose ponytail or secured with a clip. She wore reading glasses. She was a favored teacher among her students as well, often surrounded by young men and women lingering long after the last bell had rung.

His covert vetting of Paul Hammond showed that he was fine, upstanding member of the Napa community; well-liked by faculty and parents alike, with no more than a parking ticket to his name from a weekend in San Francisco. A weekend, Harry found out, that he had proposed to Ruth. _Elinor. _He was a good man and Harry hated that.

Then he felt foolish for hating him. Ruth deserved all the happiness she had found. He kept telling himself that while he watched her.

On the third day, he watched her walk him to his hybrid car as he set off for a mathematics conference in Silicon Valley. The schedule Harry had acquired told him that Paul would be gone for four days.

It was time to make his move.

An hour later he parked the rental car on a side street and made his way to her front door. The warm spring day warranted just the screen door at the front of the house. He carefully made his way up the path onto the front porch.

Gathering his breath and wits, he climbed the last step and reached the front door when her low and steady voice rang out.

"Hello, Harry."

xxx

Few words were exchanged when she pushed the screen door open and let him walk past her into her sitting room. Her two cats eyed him curiously before turning and leaving the room.

"Sit. I'll make tea." She retreated to the kitchen.

He couldn't sit. Being in her space was nearly overwhelming—an entire room filled with _her. _But as he looked around her realized that the room wasn't Ruth, it was Elinor. Moreover, it was Elinor and Paul. He was surrounded by framed photos of the two of them on holidays, pictures with graduating students, with other couples. He'd walked into a life.

"I saw you yesterday." Her voice startled him out of his thoughts and he turned to see her holding out a mug of steaming tea. He knew it would be sweet.

"You did?"

"It's been four years, Harry, not forty. You're extremely lucky that the residents of Napa aren't nearly as observant as I am."

He smiled. "You're a—"

She cut him off before he could finish the familiar compliment. "What are you doing here?"

"I left the service." This entire conversation had been much easier in his head.

"I see." Her posture was rigid, almost formal. The short distance between them felt like the whole of the Atlantic Ocean.

He set his mug on the mantle of the fireplace and squared his shoulders to face her properly. _"Now or never,"_ he thought.

"I came for you."

xxx

The phone rang, interrupting them. It was Paul letting his wife know that he'd arrived in San Jose and that he missed her already.

"I miss you, too," she said into the receiver, her eyes never leaving Harry's, willing him to remain quiet while she finished. "Me, too," she finished. Harry didn't have to wonder what that was in response to, he'd seen their kiss good-bye already.

She replaced the phone into its cradle and faced him again. "I'm sorry."

"I came for you," he repeated and stepped closer to her.

"Harry, how am I supposed to respond to that?"

"Ruth, if you'd just give me a minute to explain."

He didn't know how long it had been since she'd heard her given name, but from her reaction, he'd guess it had been awhile. Her eyes had closed briefly while the name washed over her, then opened again. It was almost as if she was reminding herself that she wasn't Ruth anymore.

Surprisingly, she didn't correct his use of her name, so he took the opportunity to press on. "I honestly had no idea what I was going to say to you, but I thought—"

"You thought, what?"

"I didn't think."

"That's a lie, and you know it. You're here, in Napa, on the weekend that my _husband_ is out of town."

She hit the word "husband" with force and continued on, "That's something else you knew, right, Harry? You wouldn't turn up without having all the facts lined up. I noticed the detective, too."

She was getting angrier with every passing moment.

"Do you have any idea how scared I was when I realized that I was being watched? The very thought that Oliver Mace or someone else could've tracked me down? And I couldn't even confide in—"

"Your husband," he finished.

"He doesn't know."

"That much is obvious, _Elinor."_

"You don't get to be this way." She turned and stalked away from him towards the sofa, but she didn't sit down.

"What way is that?"

"Angry."

"Who's angry?"

"Come off it, Harry. You look as if you're ready to spit nails. I'm surprised you haven't turned down those picture frames on the mantle."

"That would be childish, Ruth."

"But you thought about it, didn't you?"

"This is ridiculous." The mood was too heavy, too intense. He just wanted to talk to her. "Please, sit. Can we just sit and talk?"

She held his gaze for a moment before she sat down wordlessly. He crossed the room and took a seat in the armchair opposite her. He took a minute to look at her fully for the first time.

"I'm sorry about the detective."

"No, you aren't."

He respected that she wouldn't back down. "You're right. I've been looking for you for a long time."

"I hid well."

"California? Truly the last place I would've thought."

"Exactly."

Something in her choice of words stopped him short. "You—you didn't want to be found." It wasn't a question it was a realization.

"No, Harry, I didn't," she offered quietly.

"I found you anyway."

"So you did."

He glanced at his watch and she noticed. "Have somewhere to be?"

"I, uh, well, this is awkward."

"Quite."

"No, you see, I can't believe I'm saying this, but… I booked a table."

She laughed a short, hard laugh. "Has nothing changed?"

"No time for dinner with an old friend?"

He thought maybe if he got her out of the house, onto more neutral ground, maybe they could really talk.

"Dinner."

xxx

The French Laundry was one of the most exclusive restaurants in the entire United States. With only two dinner sittings and a six-month waiting list, Harry had pulled many strings to secure their table.

"This is hardly just 'dinner,' Harry. Do you know what the waiting list is for this place?"

"In fact, I do." With the wine ordered and their tasting menu set to begin, he continued their paused conversation.

"Ruth, I am sorry. I had the file and I felt like I should finish the operation."

"Finding me was an operation? Who else knows? Malcolm? Adam?"

"No. No one. I did it on my own."

"No wonder it took you so long." This time she smiled fully. She had made a joke and Harry felt his throat unclench. He smiled back at her.

"You look well. The photos didn't do you justice."

"Yes, everyone looks fantastic from a telephoto lens," she quipped. "You look relaxed."

"Retirement."

They ate and unwound. The first bottle of wine was finished in the fourth course.

"So you like teaching then?"

"I love it. I really do."

"With all the managing of us you did on the Grid, it's no wonder you're a natural." He wasn't sure what her reaction would be to him bringing up her old life, but she engaged his line of conversation.

"Oh, yes, it's just like that," she laughed. "Although, Adam may have been more of a handful than some of my 13-year-olds."

"I'm not surprised."

"I find it rewarding and the hours are good," she grinned.

"There is that."

Conversation turned serious while he told her about Zaf. Her eyes watered slightly and she sipped her wine with a shaky hand. He let his own hand cover the one that was resting on the table in a gesture of comfort. He'd had time to deal with the loss. For her, it was brand-new.

The physical contact was their first since his reentrance into her life. She stared at his larger hand covering her smaller one. He watched her. The moment was interrupted by the arrival of their next course.

He swiftly changed the subject to entertaining her with tales of Scarlett and Fidget's never-ending battles for dominance of the loveseat.

Two hours later, they sat in the garden of the restaurant, stuffed to the gills with French food and wine. He hadn't made a move to touch her again. Sharing a small bench in the dusk, he took the opportunity to really look at her. A small smile danced on her lips while she breathed in the fresh and fragrant air of the garden. Her cheeks were slightly rosy from the wine. She had never looked more beautiful.

She was watching him watch her.

"Harry, I…"

"Ruth, it's okay." He had to take her home before he did something terrible or wonderful.

"You don't even know what I was going to say."

"Let me take you home."

Confused by the abrupt end to their evening, she let him lead her to the car and they drove in complete silence back to her house.

Like a proper English gentleman, he walked her to the front door. He had already decided it would go no further. He would say good-bye and leave her.

"Tea?"

"I can't." He absolutely couldn't.

"You have somewhere else to be?"

He told himself that it is an illusion that she is trying to extend the evening herself. His eyes caught her hands fidgeting, twisting the wedding ring she wears.

"No."

"Then come in. Please."

He never could deny her.

xxx

He was back looking at the photos on the mantle when she brought him his tea, particularly the ones of her clearly posing with favored students.

"No children." It was more observation than question.

She seemed taken slightly aback by his directness. "Uh, no. We—we did try, but I suppose it just wasn't meant to be."

They sat down. The awkwardness continued crackle in the air around them.

"Harry, what happened? We were having a lovely time and you've just, I don't know, you've shut down on me."

"Tell me about Paul," he tried to change the subject.

"I've no doubt you already know everything about Paul, down to his parking tickets."

"Ticket," he corrected.

"Why do you want to know about him?"

"Because he's your husband. He's the man you married." There was an edge to his voice now. In seconds, his entire demeanor had changed. Maybe it was being in this house with her and all her things. She wasn't her anymore. She wasn't his Ruth.

"You're cross again."

"Yes, I am."

"You're cross that I got married. For God's sake, I was 35 years old! I had just given up my entire life for you. I was alone. I couldn't even bring my cats with me."

"But I—we—"

"We were cut short. It was cruel and unfair, but it's what happened. There's nothing we can do about it."

He moved close to her, into her personal space. He was close enough to feel her breathing. "I came here **for you**."

"You came here knowing full well what you would find. Did you think I would collapse into your arms and just run away with you? Life is not a fairy tale. We were not a fairy tale." She stood to try and put some distance between them to no avail. He was beside her again. "I've had experience leaving lives behind, Harry. I don't care to repeat it."

"Ruth, I never told you that day—"

"Harry, don't. Please, do not do this."

"I've waited four years."

"Do you know that it took me six months to agree to have dinner with Paul? Do you know why?" She rolled on, not letting him answer. "Because I felt like I was cheating on you!"

"Ruth—"

"No."

He squared his shoulders facing her and looked deeply into her eyes. "Ruth, you wouldn't let me say it before, but I came all this way and I'm not leaving without saying it now." His voice dropped to a low, intimate timbre, "I love you."

Her defenses crumbled under the gentleness of his declaration and tears sprang to her eyes. She started to cry softly and wrapped her arms around him. It was all the invitation he needed to hold onto her, too.

For several long moments she sobbed against his chest and he held her, soothing her and stroking her hair. It was not exactly how he imagined having her in his arms, but she needed him.

When she finally pulled away, he reluctantly let her go. She stepped back so the space between them could enable her to collect her head.

"I shouldn't have done that." Her fingertips tried to wipe away the traces of tears down her cheeks.

"It's okay."

"This is so unfair," she said with a watery smile.

"Seems to be a habit with us."

"Indeed."

Neither knew what to say after that. They were clearly at an impasse. Nonetheless, he'd said what he came to say. He decided it would be best if he heeded her wishes. "I should go."

"Harry—"

"It's okay, Ruth."

"It's just that—I can't. I have a life. I have Paul."

"He's extremely lucky. I hope he knows that." He meant it.

"He does," she nodded.

"I'm sorry if I upset you."

"I'm sorry I shouted," she smiled weakly.

"Well, then, we'll leave this as what it was—a dinner between two old friends."

"Two very old, very dear friends," she agreed, a bit half-heartedly.

"I'll be off now."

"Where will you go?"

"For tonight, back to my hotel. Tomorrow, who knows?"

"An adventure."

"You take care now, Ruth," he said as his heart broke once again.

"And you, Harry."

She walked him to the door and lingered in the doorframe while he stepped onto the porch.

"Good-bye, Ruth."

This time it was he who reached for her. Leaning in, he planted a soft and gentle kiss on her cheek. His lips picked up the faint trace of the salt of her tears.

"Good-bye, Harry."

And he was gone.

xxx

Harry took advantage of the fully stocked minibar at the River Terrace Inn and poured himself a scotch. He undid another button on his dress shirt and stepped out onto his balcony. The night was quiet and the view was peaceful.

The warmth of the scotch spread through his body with every swallow. He'd check out in the morning, he decided. Go back to London and sort out what he would do next.

For all intents and purposes, the Op was finished. Mission unaccomplished.

The knock on the door was so faint he was surprised he heard it. The light rapping continued as he crossed the room and checked the peephole in the door. He wasn't expecting anyone.

Convinced his eyes were playing tricks on him, he cracked the door open slightly to verify that he couldn't possibly be seeing what he thought he was.

The door was pushed fully open with an unexpected force and slammed just as quickly. Suddenly he was surrounded by her.

Her. His Ruth. She was in his arms kissing him with all the passion in her body.

They clung to each other and kissed as if they were making up for every single day of the missing four years. Lips and mouths meshed together like a familiar dance. Her hands traced patterns up his back while pulling him closer and closer. His hands found themselves tangled in the silk of her hair.

After what seemed like an age, she pulled back and let her eyes search his. Her lips were swollen and her eyes glassy, but clear. She was no longer upset. She was aroused.

"Ruth?" He dared speak her name, afraid to break the spell but needing to know exactly what was going on.

"I love you, too."

"Ruth—"

"I wouldn't let you say it that day because I knew I would never leave." She traced her fingers along his jawline. "And I had to go."

"I know." He didn't know what was going on or what to expect from her. She was in control.

She kissed him again—slower, more deliberately, more intimately. He realized her intent. This would be the only time. For a minute he debated whether they could do this, whether he'd be able to live with just one night, whether she'd be able to live with the aftermath.

Her fingertips undoing the remaining buttons of his shirt distracted him and he stilled her hands with his.

"Ruth, look at me."

She raised her eyes to meet his.

"Are you sure?" He offered her a way out.

"Always the gentleman, Harry."

"I'm serious."

Her lips brushed against his with her answer. "So am I."

There was no talking after that.

xxx

She lay draped over him, while he drew random patterns on her bare back with his fingers. Their skin was still heated from their lovemaking, but neither made an attempt to move or disengage from each other. He relished the delicate weight of her on his chest and her legs tangled in his. The ends of her hair had curled up from the exertion.

"That was…"

"Amazing," she finished.

He laughed a low laugh and she vibrated against his chest. "Yes."

She smiled and propped herself up on an elbow to look him in the eyes. "It was perfect." She kissed him softly.

"How did you find me?"

"You mean, besides the fact that Napa isn't very big? Easy, I'm better at my job than you are," she grinned.

He laughed and rolled her onto her back. He pressed her into the mattress and kissed her deeply.

xxx

In the morning, he ordered a most decadent room service breakfast that they ate out on the terrace while watching the river. Dressed only in the complimentary bathrobe, she sipped strong coffee. They were mostly silent while they enjoyed the morning quiet and the fleeting moments of their time together.

The whole scene was oddly domestic despite being in a hotel room and one of the parties being married to someone else. None of that had mattered last night; it had simply been them—Harry and Ruth, at last.

With the coffee carafe empty and the last piece of toast duly fought over, it was time to return to real life.

"I need to go soon," she said quietly.

"I know."

He would not ask her to come with him, for he knew she wouldn't accept. Last night was probably the most spontaneous and reckless and magnificent thing either of them had ever done in their lives.

She dressed slowly but purposefully.

"Well, then…." She stood before him smiling and sated.

"I love you, Ruth."

"I love you, too, Harry."

They wrapped themselves in each other one final time. Their last kiss was gentle and lingering.

"Be good to yourself. Promise me."

"Have a wonderful life, Ruth."

He kissed her once more before she turned on her heels and was gone.

xxx

He took her advice.

Two months after his week in Napa, he left for his Grand Tour. It was what she would've wanted, he told himself.

He started in Vienna with sights set on Prague and Berlin next. He spent three weeks exploring the city as a tourist for the first time in his life. It was decidedly normal and occasionally lonely.

He spent a month in Prague.

By the time he reached Berlin, he no longer felt like a tourist, but a citizen of the continent. He was drinking exceptionally strong German coffee and trying to stay warm near the large fireplace in the café. The large armchair was comfortable and welcoming. He enjoyed the animated chatter of the locals around him while he made notes in his diary.

He barely noticed when the armchair next to his gained an occupant.

"Guten abend, Harry."

His eyes flicked upwards.

"Ruth," he breathed.

"Have I missed much? Just Vienna and Prague, right?"

"Ruth, how—what are you—"

"I had things to settle. I hope you can understand that."

He nodded slowly, and she continued.

"My wonderful life, Harry? It's with you."

There were so many questions to be asked and answered, but seeing her smiling at him, her eyes bright with the anticipation of their adventure, he did the only thing he could think to do.

He leaned over and kissed her.

**finis**


End file.
